Liz Young's Blog, page 23

BLINDFOLD - a story in a hundred words

BLINDFOLD
Nobody wanted to play Cousin Gary’s stupid game, but as we hadn’t seen him for years we let him persuade us.I should have stopped it when he held Susie a second too long while guiding her hand to pin the tail on the donkey, but I told myself not to be paranoid.Then it was my turn. Blindfolded, I heard scuffling and a smothered gasp, but even then I didn’t guess, and finished my go before I removed Gary’s woollen scarf.The expression on Susie’s face will haunt me to the grave..............................................................................I am late on parade this week, due mostly to the lovely weather which has taken me out into the garden instead of sitting at my computer. Having inherited a neglected garden last summer, there is a lot to do. Protecting my spinach from the depradations of pigeons was this week's prioiry!

WATER - a story in a hundred words

WATER
I am the sprite known as Agua.Sucked through a pipe and imprisoned in this chlorinated hell.
Every day people invade my space, the crash of their entry vibrating through every cell in my body.
I hide in the corners to avoid their thrashing limbs, but there is no escape.
Only when they leave can I swim in the shade between their hard squares of light, longing for the tree shadows and weed-scented river of home.
One day I will drag a body under and hold it.Perhaps then they will drain this watery prison and set me free.

....................................................................I have always found empty swimming pools eerie, and the unidentifiable swirls in Rochelle's photograph inspired my story this week. What's more, I hit exactly a hundred words first time!
Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers tirelessly week after week, even when away in the Holy Land - hope you're having a great time, Rochelle!

THUNDER OF WAR

Jean L Hayes's photograph for Friday Fictioneers looks like a war-ravaged landscape to me, and as I am in the throes of rewriting my next book, I am reprising a story I wrote four years ago that seems to fit the bill. 
Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers - if you follow the Blue Frog link from her blog you can read other stories.
I am also gardening, of course, and once I put that hat on I can be engrossed for hours!
...........................................
  THUNDER OF WAR

After months of hiding in the cellar, trembling at each explosion and venturing out only when driven by hunger, Shira crept away through the ruins.
Carrying her daughter through the broken timbers and glass shards, she dodged from shadow to shadow until they were in the fields.
They dropped flat every time a bomb fell, but when they reached the hills the sounds of war were mercifully distant.
Sheltered beneath a tree, they slept until woken by a crash directly overhead. The child screamed, but Shira said soothingly, “Hush, it is only thunder. See, here comes the rain.”

THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET

THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET
Huddled in his doorway, Harvey stared sourly across the street. Why did the sun never shine on him? Over there it was spring, with a hint of green colouring the trees, but on this side the snow still lay in dirty heaps.
He pulled his overcoat tighter and scowled at the people streaming into the synagogue. Their cheerful greetings floated across the sunny street to Harvey’s shadow, families and friends together, emphasizing his loneliness.
A car pulled up beside him and a man got out.“What are you doing skulking over here, Harvey? Come on – you’ll be late. Happy Passover!”.......................................................

It took me a while to come up with a story for Roger Bultot's photo - not being Jewish I couldn't think of anything appropriate - but my story could easily be about any place of worship.
Poor Harvey is clearly suffering from depression - a state in which one can often only view the lighter side of life from ones own darkness.

RECCE - a story in less than 100 words

RECCE
Asbed scuttled up the shingle like a crab, terrified at the noise it made, and peeped between the seaweed covered beams of the breakwater.After the filth and fear of the camp the peaceful town looked like paradise. He imagined clean beds, decent food, and freedom. If only...From the dinghy Karim hissed, ‘Hurry up!’Asbed sighed and took a photograph. They returned quickly to the yacht and sailed east again – just two men out on a fishing trip.
Back at the refugee camp Asbed’s photograph sold a hundred cross-Channel tickets.*****Sandra Crook's photograph could almost have been taken on my short break last week in Folkestone, where there is a vast shingle beach, empty on the cool and foggy morning of our walk, from which on a clear day you can see France.
That family visit, and the glorious weather over the Easter weekend, are my excuse for my absence from FF last week - I hope you missed me.

THE END OF CIVILISATION - a story in 100 words

THE END OF CIVILISATION
It was deadlier than a nuclear blast – an endless tsunami of sound. Those who didn’t die of embolisms jumped into the ocean in suicidal agony.
Animals, unaffected by the sonic bomb, invaded the towns with astonishing speed – pampered pets fell victim to predators or turned feral.
Within months the cities began to disappear beneath foliage. Pollarded trees hid their scars with luxuriant growth, cracking pavements in their search for water. Unchecked plants climbed telephone wires, reaching though open windows. Mould consumed paper, fabric and, eventually, even plastic.
It was the end of civilisation – but not the end of the world.----------------------------------------------------------------------- This is a story written in response to the photograph taken by Roger Bultot and posted for Friday Fictioneers on Rochelle's blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/  If you visit her blog you can follow the links to read how scores of other writers interpreted the image.
After an early burst of spring in the south of England which brought my new garden to life, we have returned to wintry blasts. Unfortunately the grass doesn't know it's supposed to stop growing, and the lawn mower has been out twice already, and the birds are consuming vast quantities of seed and dried mealworms. Only my vegetable seeds and potato sets are sensibly keeping their heads below ground until the weather warms up - which we hope will be in time for Easter.
Meanwhile, if you're stuck indoors, why not read one of my books? While I work on a third book in my Living Rock series, the first two books, A Volcanic Race and Wolf Pack are available on Amazon, along with Helter-Skelter, a stand-alone historical novel.I would love to have LOTS more readers and, of course, more 5* reviews!

NOT LOST BUT HIDING - a 100 word story

NOT LOST BUT HIDING
“You lost her?” Ellie’s mum shrieked. “It’s getting dark and she’s only seven!”“She just ran off,” Roy mumbled. “You know how thick those woods are.”“You’re the thick one – now we’ll have to go back out there and find her.”
Ellie didn’t like the woods at night – all those trees looming, the brambles clutching at her dress – and she was scared. When she saw the torches she nearly called out – until she heard his voice.
She didn’t want to be found after all – at least, not by Uncle Roy.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ronda del Baccio's photo inspired a dark story this week - my first for a fortnight as I have been on holiday with my daughters and granddaughter. We were looking forward to a week of sunshine but the weather had other plans. One day of torrential rain, another of showers, but we managed a couple of mornings on the beach and a few delicious meals out, so I came home refreshed.

Since my return I have been concentrating on a severe rewrite of the third book in my Living Rock series, and have finally settled on its title - Rock Fall. If you haven't read the first two, now is your chance - A Volcanic Race and Wolf Pack are available on Amazon in print or ebook.

Along with many other writers I am also tweeting a Very Short Story on Twitter regularly, prompted by a word chosen by #vss365. If you would like to read those, my tag is @young_liz.

HEN PARTY - reprising a 100 word story

HEN PARTY

Why this story? you may ask. Because I'm off to Tenerife with my daughters and granddaughter for a week, and we might see some bright lights while we're there. Also because we fly out at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I haven't finished packing! So here's one I wrote earlier - three years earlier, to be exact. Hope it meets with approval.
Visit Rochelle's blog to read what others have written this week.https://rochellewisoff.com/  and apologies for not visiting many others myself - I will be a tad busy with a 4 year old!



HEN  PARTY
Six of us flew to Tenerife for Leanne’s hen do. The apartment was pretty basic, but it didn’t matter because we were out every night.In one night-club this creepy bloke bought us all drinks, and when we staggered home in the pitch dark he tried to kiss me. Eeuuw! He pinned me against a palm-tree – I still remember his long pointed teeth – but then the moon came out like a spotlight, there was a horrible screech, and a black shape flapped up into the tree. When I looked round, the bloke had just vanished. A real weirdo, that one!

SOUL MUSIC - flash fiction in only 60 words

SOUL MUSIC
She only stopped playing when her arthritis forced her to, but she still dusted the keys and polished every inch each week.The piano-tuner still came regularly too. I remember his dog would sit underneath – a gentle creature.Then the day after her funeral her husband banished me to the shed.Obviously he doesn’t realise a piano has a soul.................................................This week's photograph by Anshu is so sad, and my story was written in five minutes - truly flash fiction! 

BIKER CAT - one hundred words for Friday Fictioneers

BIKER CAT
Fernando always parked his bike beside his house, out of sight of potential thieves. The engine-warmed seat was Morena’s favourite place, but she usually jumped off when Fernando rattled his keys.
Not that day. She refused to budge, even digging her claws into the leather when he tried to push her off. He laughed indulgently. “All right, five more minutes while I fetch my football kit.”
He returned with his kit bag just in time to see emergency vehicles race past towards the motorway. If he’d left two minutes earlier he’d have been in that pile-up..................................................................................I'm a firm believer in animal's ESP instincts - are you?Either way, I hope you enjoy my story - please leave a comment if you can before you go to read other stories via https://rochellewisoff.com/  Thanks to CEAyr for the photograph - which reminded me of Tenerife where I lived for 15 years. I am due to return there this month for a short visit to catch up with old friends - and to celebrate a birthday. I am much too old to have them but hey! who cares?